First Chapter: Hideaway by Rachel Lacey
Phoebe
The door closed behind me with a soft click, and I leaned against it, one hand clasped around the handle of my suitcase. The house looked exactly like I remembered, with floral-papered walls and thick piled carpet that squished beneath my shoes. It smelled the same too, spicy undertones of the incense my grandma used to burn, mixed with the musky scent of dogs. I almost expected to hear Grandma’s voice calling from the kitchen and Comet’s friendly bark as he rushed to greet me.
Today, the house was silent. Dust motes danced in the air where a shaft of sunlight cut across the entryway from the front window. And behind the familiar scents, there was a staleness that came from the house having been closed up for more than six months. I pushed the suitcase ahead of me as I walked into the living room. Its wheels snagged in the thick carpet, and I stumbled against it, banging my shin.
“Dammit,” I whispered, rubbing my leg. My voice disturbed the absolute silence inside the house. I wasn’t used to quiet, having just left Boston and then singing along to my favorite music in the car during my drive to Vermont. My ears seemed to ring with the absence of noise. This was why I’d come, though, not only to clean out my grandmother’s home, but to be alone, to hide out here in the middle of nowhere while I waited for the shitstorm back home to die down.
After three and a half hours in the car, my bladder was pretty unhappy with me, so I went down the hall to the guest bathroom, leaving my suitcase stuck in the carpet. The little bowl of potpourri by the sink was still there, keeping the room fresh despite the layer of dust on the surfaces. I freshened up, avoiding my reflection in the mirror. I knew what I’d see if I looked. My eyes were shadowed from too many sleepless nights, my curly hair limp from having dried in a ponytail during my drive. My clothes were probably wrinkled too.
With a sigh, I walked to the living room to retrieve my suitcase, hit by an unexpected wave of nostalgia as I swept my gaze around the room. My grandma’s shelves were filled with the same family photos and knickknacks that had been here for as long as I could remember. There was the sparkly rock I’d brought home from a hike when I was seven, sitting proudly next to a photo of me and my grandma.
“I miss you, Grandma,” I whispered. She’d died in her sleep last fall, taken without warning by a massive heart attack. I’d always thought that was the best way to go, except she’d been way too young and none of us had gotten the chance to say goodbye. The door to her bedroom was closed now, and I couldn’t bring myself to open it, afraid of what I might find. Were her glasses still sitting beside the bed? Had anyone washed the sheets?
Instead, I pushed my suitcase to the guest room across the hall, the room that had been mine for so many summer vacations during my youth. It looked the same too, with a blue-striped quilt on the bed and white lace curtains, although the air here was unpleasantly stuffy.
I went to the window and unlatched it, giving it a push. Nothing happened. This window had always been tricky. I crouched, lifting from my knees as I pushed upward, finally raising the window a few inches with a dull squeak. Fresh air flowed into the room, warm and lightly scented by my grandmother’s rosebushes.
That was a pleasant surprise. I’d been afraid they might have died, left unattended during a harsh Vermont winter. But as I gazed out the window, the backyard looked well-tended. The grass was recently mowed, and the rosebushes I could see from the window were neatly pruned. Had my dad hired someone to keep the place up? If he had, he hadn’t mentioned it to me.
I turned away from the window, and my gaze caught on a framed photo on the dresser of two little girls with their arms around each other as they twirled in a field of tall grass. That field was just through the woods out back, and those girls…
I pressed a hand to my heart. I’d come here for an escape, but I’d forgotten how many memories this house held, memories I wasn’t ready to face yet. I sat on the bed and checked my phone, finding texts from my best friends Courtney and Emily, as well as one from my mom, all checking to make sure I’d arrived safely.
I miss you already, Courtney had written. FaceTime later?
Sending you so many hugs, Emily said.
Drive safely, and let me know when you get there, from my mom.
After sending each of them a quick reply, I left my suitcase in the bedroom and went down the hall to the kitchen for a glass of water. The dishes were all clean and put in their right places. Who had done that? Had my dad cleaned the house when we’d come up for the funeral in November? I’d stayed behind at the hotel when he came here, not ready to see this place without Margery in it.
I filled a glass at the sink and gulped down about half of it, parched from my drive. Then I peeked into the fridge, not sure whether it would be full of old, spoiled food, but it was empty. I’d have to go shopping before dinner. In fact, I was already hungry, but I wasn’t ready to get back in the car just yet.
Instead, I put my glass in the sink and went out the kitchen door, descending three worn wooden steps onto the patio. The rosebushes that ran along the back of the house bloomed with big pink, red, and white blossoms. More roses climbed a trellis over the patio, with two white Adirondack chairs beneath it.
A path ran down to the stream at the edge of the yard, where a small wooden bridge connected it to the hiking trail leading into the woods. As a girl, I had loved to explore those woods. Were the trails I’d tromped down so many times still there?
As I inhaled the fresh country air, I felt myself relaxing for the first time in weeks. This was exactly why I’d come to Vermont. I needed the peace and quiet here, the solitude, far from the stress of the city. I needed to be alone for a little while. I’d even deleted all the social media apps from my phone, hoping that by the time I reconnected with the larger world, my notifications would no longer be a hotbed of attention I’d never asked for or wanted.
Something moved in my peripheral vision, and I turned just as an animal rushed out of the woods, dashing toward me. I inhaled, adrenaline bursting through my veins as the shaggy black creature crossed the yard, my mind screaming bear a moment before it barked.
Oh, thank God.
The dog ran at me, and I didn’t even have a chance to recover from my shock before it planted its front paws on my leg, tail wagging. It was enormous, with bushy black fur like a…well, like a bear.
“Jesus,” I muttered as I gave it a cautious pat. I liked dogs, but the way this one came racing out of the woods so unexpectedly had scared me. My heart was still pounding. Was it a stray? There was a red collar around its neck, so maybe not. Before I could look for tags, I heard a woman’s voice calling from the direction of the hiking trail.
“Minnie!”
The dog turned its head to stare in the direction of what was probably its owner calling for it, but could an animal this big really be named Minnie? I gave it a gentle nudge since its front paws were still propped against my leg, and it dropped to all fours, panting.
I frowned. This was private property. Why was someone hiking on my grandmother’s land? That was rude, even if the house had sat vacant for a while.
“Minnie!” the woman called again, and the dog dashed in her direction, letting out an excited bark.
I planted my hands on my hips as a tall woman with hair the color of cinnamon came striding out of the woods with another dog at her side. My heart—which was still pounding—lurched for an entirely different reason, because oh, I knew that stride, that smile, that hair.
I’d known her as a little girl, skipping through the field on the other end of this trail, and for one memorable summer when we were sixteen, she’d been more than my best friend. She’d been my first love, the girl whose kiss made me realize I didn’t like boys.
I swallowed roughly, my throat gone dry. “Taylor?”